


Numb

by TheThirdGreywaren (ShelbyDraven)



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Heavy Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-28
Updated: 2015-04-28
Packaged: 2018-03-26 03:41:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3835675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShelbyDraven/pseuds/TheThirdGreywaren
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lavellan had been lucky so far, but like all things, it had to end. Unfortunately, it happens to be bloodier than he deserves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Numb

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired and written to Numb by Barcelona (recommended for some angsty feelings).
> 
> This was rushed and terrible after the fic I wrote yesterday but I digress. Perhaps some errors, my apologies.
> 
> (Ma emma lath = You are my love)

A certain type of numbness was spreading through his bones, settling heavy on his chest. He could dimly hear ragged breathing, which sounded as though the owner’s lungs were full with liquid.

His throat burned, and he coughed, feeling metal coat his tongue and speckle his lips. A part of him realized that the ragged breathing belonged to him, but he was much too tired to do much about it besides continue to draw in painfully sharp breaths.

His throat and lungs hurt, but everything else was simply numb; he wasn’t sure if this was a blessing or something to fear.

His lungs constricted, and he coughed weakly, struggling to draw in another breath through the heavy metal taste in the back of his mouth.

“Shh, just breathe.” Someone gently propped him up, and he felt his chest flare with a pain he never felt before. He gasped, feeling the world suddenly darkened around the edges of his vision. Through blurry eyes he watched a familiar figure smooth the damp hair from his forehead, fear filling his features. Dorian pulled his hand away, and Lavellan caught a flash of red staining his lover’s fingertips.

He struggled to form the question on his lips, but no sound would come out; only heavy, wet gasps for breath.

“You’re a damn fool, you know,” Dorian muttered, rifling through his bag desperately. He knew that the potions he carried around were long used up, but still, he prayed for the off-chance that this once he would be lucky once again and he wouldn’t have to let Lavellan die, helpless.

Lavellan would have laughed, but since breathing was hard enough, he settled for a small, weak smile. He didn’t show his teeth, knowing that the metal taste filling his mouth would stain them with blood, and that was a bit too dark for his taste.

“Kaffas,” Dorian hissed, shoving his bag away, suddenly furious at his lack of healing magic. No potions, no time. This left him desperate, and a desperate man would make terrible decisions. He looked up at Lavellan, who watched him with understanding.

That was the worst part, Dorian decided, and he blinked back the sudden wetness in his eyes.

“I’m not going to let you die,” Dorian said, his voice as helpless as the rest of him. Lavellan did not say anything - not that he could have, with his irregular breathing - but instead weakly twitched his fingers, looking at Dorian with a look that enforced his intentions.

Dorian reached out and took Lavellan’s fingers, feeling himself crumble. He didn’t want this. He didn’t want to watch his _amatus_ struggle for a breath, to see the acceptance in his eyes.

He didn’t want to lose Lavellan.

“You can’t die,” Dorian whispered, and he broke, tears blurring his vision and burning his throat. He clutched at Lavellan’s fingers and tried to stifle the sob building in his chest. He tried to disarm it with a choked, “What would the people say, _amatus_? You’re a horrible Herald, going off and just… not coming back.” Dying was a word that refused to pass Dorian’s lips, instead staying in his mind, a dark and gut-wrenching thought that threatened to overwhelm him any moment.

It was getting harder for Lavellan to breathe. He could feel his pulse slow, the numbness creeping into his fingers and arms and even his chest, deliciously relieving as it was terrifying. Words sat on his tongue, heavy as the blood, heavy as his eyelids. It wasn’t very fair; every man deserved his last words. Why was he robbed of his?

“ _Ma emma lath_ ,” Lavellan tried to say, but only a strangled gurgle escaped him, blood sliding down his chin. He didn’t have much blood, they both knew. Dorian leaned forward, still holding onto Lavellan’s fingers in a grip he could not feel, and rested his forehead against Lavellan’s, looking into the dying elf’s eyes as if he wanted to read and memorize every thought behind them.

“I love you, _amatus_ ,” Dorian said quietly, “I adore you.”

Lavellan hoped his eyes said that he felt the same, because his chest was becoming tighter and his eyelids were becoming too heavy to support and he was desperate for Dorian to know.

His eyes fluttered shut, the memory of Dorian’s eyes clear, helping ease the sudden terror gripping his lungs.

He did not want to die, but lately making choices was a luxury he had stolen from him.

The sound of Dorian’s voice was muffled, and Lavellan struggled to listen to no avail. He sensed Dorian pressing a rough kiss to his temple, and he felt the corners of his mouth quirk up as the blood stained his lips, and he was left to drift in silence.


End file.
